Thomas awoke to a beam of sunlight streaming across his face, and the far off song of the seagulls echoing from out across the bay.
"You're awake."
Thomas groggily sat up to see Frypan sitting in a chair by the bed.
"Fry?" his voice was thick with sleep. "How you doing, man?"
Frypan shrugged. "Better. They're finally letting me leave my tent. But what about you?"
"How long have I been out?"
"A day. They wanted to let you sleep, you were exhausted and had smoke inhalation through the roof. They're keeping an eye on Gally for the same reason."
The previous events suddenly hit Thomas's mind with the force of a hammer. "Newt? Is he alright? What happened to him? Is he going to make it?"
Frypan's expression grew solemn. "We don't know man. He was almost dead when they brought him off the Berg. He's still in critical condition."
"He-he-he survived a knife through his chest! He survived torture goddamnit! He'll pull through, right? I mean, he'll be okay, right?"
"That's the thing. That torture didn't make it easy on his body. It weakened him a lot. And then running on all of those? Docs say he was probably running on adrenaline mostly, but now it's all caught up to him, and he's gotta heal from that too."
Thomas threw back the thin blanket and abruptly stood up, not caring about the head rush that caused him. Frypan stood up as well. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I gotta see him."
"They said no visitors."
"I don't care."
Thomas threw open the door to his hut, and blinked against the strong sunlight. He stalked across the compound, ignoring any whispers, stares or questions asked. Until he noticed Minho sitting on a log near the firepit, staring blankly at the tall pile of ashes, picking at a bit of bark on the log.
"Minho?" Thomas asked, touching his shoulder.
Minho turned his head around, his eyes red and puffy. "Hey shuckface. Glad to see you alive."
"How is he?"
"Alive. But barely. They're not letting me in anymore." Minho threw the piece of bark into the ashes.
"Why?"
"They said I interfered with their work. What do they know? I was the one who helped keep him shucking alive in the Berg" Minho muttered bitterly.
As if on cue, a line of people filed out of one of the medical huts, each wearing a grim expression on their faces. Minho stood up abruptly, and he and Thomas crossed quickly to where they were walking. They stopped one of the doctors, eager to find out any news.
"What's going on? Is he okay?"
"We've done all we can do right now. Now, it's a waiting game." the doctor shrugged them off and proceeded with the rest of his colleagues, leaving Thomas and Minho alone in front of the hut. Exchanging a glance, they rushed into the hut, not wanting to be separated from their friend any longer.
What they saw inside brought tears to Thomas's eyes.
Newt looked thin and fragile under a single cotton blanket, only covering his legs. Bandages covered his ankle, his wrist and shoulder, and stitches repaired the more serious cuts. His body was peppered in bruises and burns, and the injection site of the blood support matched the other previous injection sites. What was most worrying though, was the bandages that wrapped his torso, so thickly wrapped around that he looked like he gained 5 pounds in that area.
Minho dragged a chair from the corner and grabbed Newt's hand as he sat down. "Hey you shank. Had to be the brave one, didn't you? Couldn't have let Thomas take his own bullets, could you?" his voice was gentle, quiet, pleading. "You gotta make it out of this, alright? Just hold on. I know you can make it. I already tried living in a world without you, buddy, and believe me when I tell you it wasn't very good. So you're going to heal, you hear me? You're going to be okay, and life is going to be as good as it's ever gonna get." Minho's voice was shaking. "Just get better, alright?"
A quiet knock on the door interrupted Minho's monologue. "Minho?" Brenda asked softly, poking her head in the door. "The Meds wanna check out that Griever sting of yours. Make sure it's all good."
Minho gave Newt's hand a gentle squeeze, and followed Brenda outside, giving Newt one last look before he left, leaving Thomas alone.
"It's a beautiful day out there Newt. I know you'd love it. The sun is high, the birds are singing, just the way you liked it in the Glade. You'd love the mornings here too. They're beautiful, all clean air and nice sunrises." Thomas sat down in the chair beside Newt and rested his forearms on his knees. "Look, you gotta make it, Newt. You know how happy we all were when we found out you were alive? I can't even describe it to you. And now you're here, and we could have you back. But then you gotta go and do this." Thomas's voice started shaking, and he rested his forehead on his hands.
"Please Newt. You gotta make it. It's over, we're finally free. Just how you wanted, remember? No more Maze, no more Scorch, no more Cranks, no more WCKD. It's over. So just wake up. I know you can make it through this, okay? Because if you die again...you'll kill me. I'll die too." Thomas's voice broke, and he let out a pained sob, burying his face in his hands. And that's where he stayed, sitting beside his best friend, crying as if his heart was breaking.